


Despair Isn't Silent

by thejurassicparty



Series: Emotional Motion Sickness [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din is having a rough day, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Like immediately after, M/M, Panic Attacks, Please let this man cry, Post-Episode: s2e6 The Tragedy, Pre-Relationship, but I wrote this with the intention of the two of the getting together, mostly hurt tho, this is not inherently shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejurassicparty/pseuds/thejurassicparty
Summary: Din is struggling to deal with his emotions after Grogu's kidnapping and the destruction of his ship. In an effort to find privacy, he makes his way into the old Nevarro sewers, his previous home. While in his old covert Din finally lets himself grieve, and in the process receives some comfort from an unlikely source.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Series: Emotional Motion Sickness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054424
Comments: 30
Kudos: 416





	Despair Isn't Silent

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, so go easy on me! I felt there wasn't enough Boba/Din content, so I decided to make some myself
> 
> This work was beta'd by the awesome mando-meer over on Tumblr! <3

Walking out of Cara’s makeshift office, body tense, all Din could focus on was the fact that Grogu was missing. No, not missing, _taken_ ; all because Din had failed to protect him like he had promised to. And as he walked down the streets of Nevarro, back to where the _Slave 1_ was fueling up, his thoughts continued to reel as he replayed what happened over-and-over in his head.

What if he had stayed with the kid instead of helping Fennec and Boba? What if he had grabbed his jet-pack right away? What if he had done something different? What if, _what if_ … He couldn’t stop the questions from racing through his brain, his head full of too many “what-ifs”. The more his mind conjured up what he could have done differently, the more his heart pounded and the tighter his chest became. 

Din panicked. It was getting harder to breathe and his lungs could not suck in air fast enough; he was losing control of himself, suffocating in his helmet, nowhere to go, and it felt like he was dying. With shaking limbs and an unbearably tight chest, Din stumbled as gracefully as he could into a small, dead-end alley. Once in the thankfully empty alleyway, Din practically threw himself against the nearest wall, looking for any support the stone could offer him, his legs threatening to buckle under his weight. Arms braced on the wall and forehead pressed against stone, Din desperately began counting in his head, remembering a technique his _buir_ had shown him as a child to calm down panicked breaths.

After what felt like hours, but was likely only minutes, Din heaved in a large breath, finally able to pull air into his aching lungs. Even after getting his breathing under control, Din continued to stand there, no longer braced against the wall but rather slumped against it, all strength seeming to have left him in an instant. As he stood there, eyes tightly closed behind his helmet, Din felt far too exposed. He needed a place to hide out for a while before his emotions consumed him completely.

_‘I need to get back to the Razor Crest.’_

He quickly cut off that thought with a croaked, “Fuck.”

Rubbing his forehead against the wall, he thought about where he could go. Cara would help him, she would understand; But _no_ , he could not show himself like this to anyone, he wanted privacy, he _needed_ privacy. 

An idea creeped into his head without his permission. _‘I could go to the sewers.’_

He knew his tribe was no longer there, he had seen it for himself, but he could not help but to hope that maybe there was a small chance someone was there. And even if there was no sign of his tribe in the sewers, he reasoned with himself that it was unlikely that anyone else would have made the tunnels their home.

A spark of determination surged through Din, allowing him to gather up his strength and push away from the wall in front of him. Collecting one last breath, he squared his shoulders and began his short march back to the main street. Leaving the alley, Din turned and quickly started making his way to where one of the entrances to the sewer was located, letting memory guide the way; all the while carefully avoiding people walking the Nevarro streets. After a few short minutes of walking that felt like an eternity, Din finally arrived at his destination. However, as soon as he stood in front of the covered entrance, all the previous determination left him, a feeling of hollowness taking its place.

Din stared at the cloth covered opening in trepidation before pulling the fabric back. A darkened staircase is what greeted him. Hesitating slightly, he sucked in an unsteady breath before finally moving, taking the first step down into the old sewers. After slowly creeping his way down the stairs, he came to a stop at the bottom of the short staircase. Din looked ahead into the silent, barren tunnels before walking aimlessly forward, feet like lead. Walking through the tunnel system, it felt to Din like he had walked into a vacuum. What was once a place full of sound was now a void. He could no longer hear the sound of his tribe going about their day-to-day lives, he couldn’t hear the background noise of conversation, or the shriek of happy children. This used to be a place full of life, but it was now empty, and Din felt like he could drown in the impenetrable silence.

_Why did I come down here?_

This thought echoed in his head as he approached the room that once held his tribe’s armory. He came to an abrupt stop before entering the room itself, feeling as cold as the now lifeless forge. Glancing up, he noticed the blackened outline of where a beskar mythosaur skull used to be proudly hung; it was a symbol of his people, a symbol of his tribe. Looking at the empty space above the doorway, a realization fully hit him, barreling into him like the mudhorn had over a year ago.

_My tribe is gone. My ship is gone. My child is gone._ **_Everything is gone._**

Suddenly crushed under the immense weight of his own despair, Din stumbled into the wall beside him before ultimately collapsing to his knees. The only sound in the empty tunnels were his harsh, rattling breaths as panic began to consume him once more.

‘What do I have to live for anymore?’ Din asked himself. ‘I have failed everyone who I was meant to care for. I have only brought death to those I love.’ 

This forced a desperate keen from Din’s throat, the pained sound ringing through the tunnel, breaking the oppressive silence. Kneeling on the floor, Din choked on air as he tried in vain to force down his sobs, his body trembling with grief. As Din continued to fight his own emotions, a deliberate footstep sounded out from behind him, far too close for his comfort.

Instinctually, Din drew his blaster as he spun around as best he could from his position on the floor. Raising his blaster to aim at the intruder, Din stopped himself before he could pull the trigger.

“What are you doing down here?” Din growled out as noticed who was standing in front of him.

“You were easy to follow, Mandalorian.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Din took his finger off the trigger, but he kept the blaster raised.

“Let’s say I was curious. You seemed distracted, so I decided to see where you were going.” Boba Fett stood calmly in front of Din, acting for all the world like Din did not have a blaster pointed in his direction. His nonchalant attitude grating on Din’s already fraying emotions.

“Leave. Before I take back our deal and shoot you where you stand.” 

Boba slowly raised his hands in a sign of surrender, face remaining steady despite the situation he was in. “I am not your enemy, Mandalorian. I said I would help you save your child, and I hold to that.”

Din’s grip on his blaster wavered as he forced out one word, “Din.”

Boba tilted his head slightly, he remained silent, but his eyes shone with question.

“That’s my name. If we’re going to be traveling together, you might as well know my name.” Din was not sure why he offered Boba, a near stranger, this part of himself, but it was too late to take back what he said.

“Din then.” Boba took a cautious step towards Din, hands still raised. “Is there a reason you came to this place?” He punctuated his question by glancing at the cold tunnels around them.

Dropping his blaster in a fit of frustration, Din growled: “Why do you want to know?”

“As I said before, I am merely curious.” Boba took another step closer to Din, slowly lowering his hands in the process. 

Huffing, Din sat back on his heels, “It belonged to my tribe. This is where we lived.” 

His tribe was no longer here, they were scattered in the wind to places he did not know. The other Mandalorian could do nothing with this bit of information, so giving it to Boba could not hurt.

_His tribe. Oh kriff. His_ **_kid_ ** _._

Din let out an involuntary gasp as his despair crashed back into him, the brief distraction Boba’s arrival provided disappearing as soon as he spoke of his tribe. Din choked down another pain filled keen as it tried to escape from his throat, shivering in the process. Boba, seeming to ignore the pain radiating from the man in front of him, took another step towards Din.

In his grief filled haze, Din failed to notice Boba’s continued approach until he stood directly in front of his kneeling form. Din’s helmet clad head snapped up to glance at Boba before quickly looking at the dust covered floor under him. Then, against his better judgment, Din scrambled on his knees until his back was to the other Mandalorian, feeling like an exposed nerve even with his helmet on. Back towards the older man, Din knew he was putting himself in a vulnerable position, but he could not bring himself to care, because at least this provided him with the illusion of privacy.

“I never had a tribe to turn to, only my father”, were the softly spoken words behind him. 

This final reminder of what he lost caused Din to snap and a sob crawled its way out of his mouth, almost surprising him with its appearance, before he closed his eyes and let the misery wash over him. Heart wrenching sobs broke through the air, as the beskar-clad man on the floor shook from the force of them.

Din flinched when a broad hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. Looking up at Boba, who now stood half a step behind him, Din stared up at the man, his sobbing having grown quieter despite their intensity. Through his tear-filled eyes and his visor, Din noticed the concern softening the older warrior’s eyes; Din looked away, tucking his chin back to his chest.

“I promise to you that we will find the child, no matter the cost”, Boba vowed softly.

These words comforted Din, despite everything. Having someone like Boba Fett at his side to save his child comforted him more than it ought to, but for some unknown reason he felt Boba was someone he could trust. The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze, reminding him of its presence. Yearning for a connection, Din blindly reached for the hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly as he continued to cry. Instead of pulling away, the broad hand gripped his hand back just as tightly, offering physical reassurance where words would fail.

_“_ Maybe” Din thought firmly, “Maybe we can do this. Together. We _will_ get my kid back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one-shot of Din finally crying! I'm planning on making more Boba/Din fics set in the same universe as this one, so maybe it will become a series, who knows. So look out for those in the future lol
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged, but please be nice!
> 
> (I have no idea how to format lol)


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